Reckless (Destined Hearts #3)

Prologue

Rex

“Scotch, neat, best you have.”

Dropping my carry-on to the floor, I slump down on the stool at the packed airport bar and release a heavy sigh. Pulling at the tie around my neck, loosening it finally like I have wanted to for hours, I close my eyes and crack my neck from side to side.

I won’t lie and say it wasn’t a nice wedding. After all, it’s not every day you stand next to your best friend and wish him good luck, a lifetime of joy, and all that other bullshit women love to believe in.

Eva looked gorgeous, too. The pair are a perfect match for one another, and shit if I’m not damn glad their endless fighting and running from one another is finally over.

For now, at least.

The bartender pours my drink, and I give the bastard a slightly dirty look, knowing he didn’t pour enough.

Glancing up, I hiss, “Make it a double.”

He rolls his eyes, before continuing to pour and then walks away. Taking the glass, I welcome the rich, strong, smoky flavor as it rolls down the back of my throat.

Who the hell gets married in February?

It snowed yesterday, it snowed today, and it’s bound to snow tomorrow, too. In fact, it’s still snowing. I glance up at the plane arrivals and takeoffs, and worry I might get delayed.

I can’t be delayed. I have to get back to the West Coast and meet Michael for some ridiculous meeting between partners about franchising another club God only knows where.

Some days, I think about getting out of the club business altogether. Then, I head back to Nashville, or stop at our original stomping ground in Auburn, California, and it all comes rushing back—why I like the fast-paced nightlife too much.

I’m not sure I can ever leave it all behind.

“Shit,” a familiar voice says behind me.

An all too familiar voice that always grabs a hold of that damn place deep inside my soul that makes me think of forever afters, weddings, good luck, a lifetime of joy.

I turn to see Gwen standing a few feet off, looking at the takeoff and arrival times I was just glancing at.

I lick my lips as my eyes run the length of her delicious body.

Thank you, Eva, for picking out those bridesmaid dresses.

Damn.

I couldn’t help but notice all night how the tight red fabric clung to Gwen’s curves like a second skin as she danced for hours on end at the reception. Her sensual display gave me a fucking hard-on I’ve debated taking care of for hours now.

But fuck, not even my hand proves able to take care of the need only she can quench.

She puts down her bag, pulls off her coat, and my mouth salivates. The strap on her right shoulder falls, exposing her porcelain skin. Her nipples poke through the thin, silk fabric and my cock stirs.

She pulls the strap back up and huffs a little, stomping her foot, which makes my grin grow. Her dark red hair flows down her back, and all I can think about is how I want my hands in it. How I want it wrapped around my fist like I want her wrapped around my throbbing cock.

“Excuse me,” she asks the bartender, motioning towards the flight schedule now updating at lightning fast pace. “Do you know if this is correct?”

“Should be,” he says flippantly before turning and ringing up a new order.

She starts to sulk, and I can’t help but think about how badly I want to reprimand her for her attitude.

Take her over my knee and spank her fine ass before I do things to her I’ve been fantasizing about for the last ten years.

My mind drifts back to a 16-year-old Gwen, gorgeous and daring as hell in bed.

I bet the woman standing before me now would blow anything sexy little Gwendolyn did back in the day out of the damn water.

Her eyes meet mine for the first time. I raise my glass and take a sip of scotch to keep my mouth busy.

Like always, I figure this is about to go one of two ways.

First, she can blow me off and run that feisty little mouth of hers I want to fill with my cock so badly.

Or, her sweet and innocent side might show up, and I’ll have to hide the bulge I already feel growing in my slacks if she comes over and sits with me.

She smiles, and carnal need almost takes over and has me reaching out to do things to her my mind hasn’t even registered yet. She pouts a sexy little pout and sticks her bottom lip out.

Fuck.

I have to rotate around to face the bar and think about my grandmother, count to ten, do anything to get that image out of my head.

She slides onto the stool at my side, and I wait a minute before turning towards her. When I do, I take another sip of scotch and wait for her to speak.

“Sharing is caring,” she whispers, glancing down through hooded lashes at the glass in my hand.

A sultry stare graces her face. She licks her lips, never taking her eyes off my glass as she leans closer.

“Rex, it pains me to admit it, but I would love to feel your warm liquid running down the back of my throat.”

Fucking shit, is she for real?

My eyes widen as I try to regain some sanity after the way she just figuratively knocked me off my stool with her comment. I try to hide my shocked expression, but she laughs knowingly, and grabs the glass from my hand.

When her fingers brush against mine, the same spark I felt for her all those years ago ignites between us. To be honest, it never left. Over the years since we were together, she’s always tried to play innocent and cool, but behind the wall she’s put up, I’ve always seen the truth.

She wants me just as bad as I’ve always needed her.

“Bartender,” I shout, motioning over the slightly irritated guy from earlier. Gwen finishes my drink. “The lady will have…”

“The same,” she smiles, licking her lips and then running her finger across the rim of the glass. Bringing her finger to her lips, she rolls her tongue around the tip and sucks it into her mouth.

Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to have her mouth wrapped around my cock like that.

I raise my glass once she hands it back, motioning I will have one of the same. The bartender slides Gwen her drink. He fills mine reluctantly, updates my tab, and then turns to leave.

“Well, it looks like we’re family now,” Gwen says.

“I’m sure Noah and Eva are somewhere over the Atlantic on their way to Italy right about now.

It was a nice wedding, wasn’t it?” she asks, but my mind is still on her tongue, and the tricks she could have learned over the years that I now have the overwhelming need to experience.

“I guess. If a winter wedding is what you want. They couldn’t have waited for warmer weather, could they?”

Gwen slumps in the chair next to me.

“Don’t I know it,” she sighs, “I have to get home for an early meeting tomorrow, and it looks like most of the flights are delayed or canceled. Damn snow. Damn Kentucky.”

I chuckle into my glass as I take another sip. “I know the feeling. Michael called an early meeting tomorrow, too. The bastard left right after the ceremony for an early flight, mumbling something about finalizing some things before we meet with more prospective partners.”

I look at the teleprompter in front of us and see my flight is still on time. Actually, it should start boarding in the next ten minutes. If I want to make it, this encounter is going to be cut shorter than I wish.

“I hate airports,” Gwen whispers. “I hate flying. Hell, I wonder how they can even take off with all this snow? Not that it looks like I’m going anywhere anytime soon. I’m probably stuck here all night.”

She fidgets in her seat. Together, we glance up at the T.V. in front of us and get lost for a few minutes in the show on the screen. The closeness of her makes it hard to concentrate. Always has. Always will.

All I’ve wanted to do for ten years is climb this damn wall we’ve built between us and break through the shitty past we created when we were young and stupid.

After another minute, she rests her hand a little closer to my right, and I fight the urge to grab it and hold on to it like a damn lovesick puppy.

It’s been a long time since we sat this close and she wasn’t figuratively and sometimes physically throwing daggers my way.

I glance at the teleprompter again and notice my flight is boarding.

“What flight do you have?” I ask.

“I was on the 10:30 to Santa Ana,” she pauses, and my hand twitches with the need to brush up against hers. “But the flight has been canceled.”

We sit in silence a moment longer. Would Michael kill me if I didn’t attend the meeting he strictly told me not to miss? It wouldn’t be the first time I was M.I.A.

I try to process the decision I’m subconsciously making as I look up at the teleprompter again. Shit, I’m about out of time. If I’m going to make my flight, I better drop all the stupid thoughts and run like hell to my gate.

She moves her hand a little closer.

“When is your flight?” she asks, innocently.

Fuck. Either way, I’m a dead man. I might as well surrender now.

“Mine was canceled, too,” I lie, quickly linking my pinky with hers on the counter. Her breathing quickens.

Yeah, I feel it, too, sweetheart.

I pick up her hand and hold it gently on the counter. Still not sure if she will turn on me in an instant and punch me in the face for what I’m attempting to do, I wait as my heart races to see where this might take us.

She raises her glass to her lips and shoots back the rest of the amber liquid quickly. Her face grows sour as she sets the glass on the counter. Slowly, she grabs my hand and lowers it to her thigh.

Fuck me, what the hell is this?

She runs her fingertips along the top of my hand before pulling my wrist and pushing my palm further into the apex of her legs.

If I was only slightly aroused before, now she has me painfully needing a release.

She always was the best cock tease. My mind instantly starts racing with all the ways I can imagine this ending.

She runs hot and cold so fast. In an instant, I could be pushed to the side.

But hell, I plan on enjoying the ride until she forces me away.

I dig my fingers into her skin, letting her know I’m on board with whatever this is. She bites her lip and purrs the further my fingers inch toward heaven. Her pussy is a place I need to lose myself in, and the sooner the fucking better.

She looks my way, and whispers, “Want to get out of here?”

Grabbing her wrist, I quickly pull her to standing.

Her mouth falls open, a startled gasp escapes her lips.

Her eyes lock on mine as I pull some money from my pocket and throw it on the bar top.

Her fingertips run across the top of my belt before dropping low.

She circles the crown of my cock, then rubs her palm greedily against my throbbing length.

“Don’t tease, Gwen,” I growl. “I’ve needed to claim your ass since you stormed out on me ten years ago. I won’t hold back. I won’t give you slow and sweet. If we do this, there is no turning back.”

“Is that a promise?” she tempts me.

I study her eyes, looking for any glimmer of doubt. When I see none, I grab her wrist, pick up both our bags, and haul her and them off towards the nearest exit.

Game. Fucking. On.

It’s time we settled this shit once and for all.

“Get ready, sweetheart,” I say over my shoulder as we head out of the airport. “Tonight’s still fucking young, and we’re just getting started.”

Swinging her around once we’ve reached outside, she studies me for a moment. Desire, defiance, fire, years of unspoken words hang between us. After a moment, she grins, grabs me hard between my thighs, and steps closer. Her lips hover next to mine.

“What’s wrong, Rex? Are you still afraid like you used to be? Who’s the tease now? I only have three words for you. I. Always. Win.”

I drop our bags to the floor and bring my hands to her face. Pushing her hair out of the way, I forcibly grab the back of her neck and bring her lips closer.

“I’m game if you are. Just remember, sweetheart. It’s my name you’ll be screaming when you realize you’re wrong. After I’ve punished you, broken you, made you finally realize, I’m where you belong.”

Her lips curl into a mischievous smile as she brings them closer. Breathing her in, I lose all control when she pushes us over the edge and says two little words. “Try me.”